This stone had come from Charlotte’s land, and therefore, it belonged to her.
***
The same evening, just after supper, Charlotte sat across from George as the sun set in the West. She had started to nod off when she heard a raspy voice.
“Water,” he breathed.
“George!” she cried. She stood and raced out the door until she found a maid. “We need more fresh water.” She came close to her brother and held his hand. “It is coming.” She sighed, a small spark of joy swelling within her. “How do you feel?” She laid the back of her hand on his head, and for the first time in several days, it didn’t feel like a fire. She uttered a silent prayer of thanks to her Maker.
George’s eyes lost focus and then seemed to find a point across the room. “I am so tired, and my head aches.” He winced and went silent for a few seconds. “I... remember some things, though I wonder if it was a bad dream.” He glanced away, and she patted his hand.
“There will be time to talk about it all, but you were so very noble.”
“He is alive, then?” George turned back toward her.
“You mean Alex?” It was remarkable that her brother had such presence of mind so soon. Charlotte wished she knew Alex’s whereabouts but tried to put her brother at ease. “He is far away from here, and he is well.”I hope.She longed to see him more than ever, to know for herself that he was indeed well.
George closed his eyes again and seemed, for the first time in days, full of peace. The maid opened the door and replaced the water, and then Charlotte sent her to tell the rest of her family the good news.
Within the hour her mother, Joseph, and Walter had gathered around George, smiling and attempting to talk with him.
Finally, after everyone else had rejoiced, Christopher appeared in the doorway, as solemn as a statue. “I think it best we don’t tire him too much,” he said.
“Yes, quite right,” Mother said, shooing the other boys out of the room and following them out.
Christopher turned to Charlotte, pain hanging in his eyes, his face ashen gray and drawn. “I’ll watch over him now.”
Charlotte wanted to protest, but something in Christopher’s eyes said that he needed to be near his brother.
With a weary nod, Charlotte lifted herself from the chair, feeling as though she’d become a permanent fixture among the furniture. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she told them.
The sun had just dipped below the trees, and her bedchamber glowed with the last of the day’s light through the balcony window. For the first time since the accident, she intended to sleep in her own room. She sat at her writing desk, ripped up the old letters, and withdrew a new piece of paper.
Summoning her courage, she dipped her quill into the inkwell and commenced her letter to Harris. Without incriminating Christopher, she explained that she hadn’t been completely honest in all that had happened these past weeks. She told him she thought he deserved someone better and more whole than herself, someone who wasn’t mourning over her family and who could give him her whole heart. She made sure to make the letter as diplomatic, honest, and vague as possible to protect all parties and still be clear. With every word, her heart tightened, and she realized too fully the choice she was making. She would be alone and near the memories of all that had happened instead of marrying Alex and escaping her past. She was acting for herself, but that did not make this easier.
Before all thoughts of her future consumed her, Charlotte signed, blotted, and sealed the letter. Thoroughly exhausted, she called for a maid and gave her the letter to post, then made her way to bed. She punched up the pillow, managed some calming breaths, then reached up and absently adjusted her necklace.
It was the only thing she had left that reminded her of Alex, and if she couldn’t have him, she ought to at least have a way to remember him.
Chapter 38
Alex shivered in the coldnight. He really should be on a train to London by now, but he’d told himself he could take the morning train instead and sleep his whole way there. He knew he couldn’t leave Northumberland until this deed was done.
The walk to the castle was a few miles, and the damp air seeped into him like sprawling, wild vines on a forgotten hedge. Over his shoulder, wrapped in a crude bundle, he carried the two extra changes of clothes he owned, wrapped around the rest of the money he’d saved.
The moon shone bright, lighting his path, and he questioned whether what he was doing was strictly necessary. She would never know otherwise. But he must clear his conscience. The left side of his foot ached, and Alex wondered how long his shoes would last before he needed to replace them. He’d need to economize now more than ever.
After nearly an hour of walking, the castle came into view, and with visceral force his stomach tightened. His breath caught too, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. This forest haunted him with every sort of memory. Here he’d had some of the best moments of his childhood. Here he’d been banished. Here he’d nearly been killed. And near here, he’d fallen in love with Charlotte Roylance.
Alex pressed all thoughts of her from his mind. He would be stronger than his past.
Coming up the park through the edge of the forest, he made sure he was in the shadows, though he doubted anyone was about at this time of night. From the front vantage, he spied Charlotte’s room, dark like every other window. The trellised vines curved around her balcony, and Alex placed the bundle he carried on the ground beside him. He checked his ticket pocket, ensuring the letter was still there, the small jewel enclosed in the inner folds of the thick paper.
As he drew breath, the cool night air chilled his teeth, and with silent feet he made his way just below her balcony.
The memory of her standing there when Walter had interrupted them made him smile.
No. He mustn’t think of past happiness. Tonight there could be nothing of the sort.
